Have you ever had a baking feeling at the back of your mind that you might never be attached to anyone because you might always have more to lose than the other party or you might just be the only real one and you can never vouch if the other is being remotely honest or a complete liar, so you just have to stretch your hands into the fog of doubts hoping they hold your hands and clear every seed of doubts that flowing through the river of thoughts you have allowed flowing in your mind, hoping it never hits a soil to turn into your biggest nightmare, the one you dreamed with your eyes open and mind totally active, where you can only blame yourself because you are the only one who saw it coming.
Well that's what was keeping Hakeem awake. He never planned to enter the strange beautiful man who he now learnt was the leader of the Music band he auditioned for to keep his strange identity out of the gray. Instead of reading is mind when he speed touched him, it instead turned into an entrancing spell that turned the whole world black and white but not those Amber eyes and definitely not the brown boots, it was almost turned a trap at the end because it was a connection he had never really had and his Isis never told him of such kind of connections in the vampire world. He could only imagine what his peers would think of him now, not that he cared, but yes...the son he never went wrong with but now astray has finally gone soft.
He stayed wide awake with a glass of Bourbon in his pale-ish hands and the faint sound of TV showing a random show in the background.
"He was better than this…" He told himself as he stared into the almost empty glass, then to the almost empty bottle. He checked the time only to find out he had been drinking for an average of three hours or more and he had roughly one hour for him to get ready for his interview.
Losing control was not one of his favorite things to do but he couldn't deny that deep down, deep down his cold inert heart, he loved the feeling. He had been blessed with the ability to manipulate emotions right from when he was a kid. He could make people sorry when he treated them like shit and he could make people see the bright side of him being an asshole, he never lost control, not once. Today, his past self might pass by him like a complete stranger because he also wasn't recognizing who he was anymore.
Resisting the urge to smash the glass right through the fucking wall, he stood from the stool staggering a bit for sitting for more than three hours. After regaining a little composure, he headed to return the remaining bourbon into the fridge and headed straight for his room, he couldn't get any more sleep even though the idea was very tempting, he had responsibilities and the life he had to face.
He went to his room and took out a bag of blood tossing it up and catching it with his eyes closed. A little trick his sister thought him when they were kids, activating his other sense organs to serve as his eyes, like his nose for perceiving the blood and ear for hearing the blood bag break through air and skin for feeling the slight breeze and the direction in which it moves, Isis was more of a mother to him than their birth mother ever was, making a mental note to visit them with some flowers and wine, he started feeding and headed to the bathroom to take a shower and brush his teeth.
What he saw in the mirror did not surprise him. His eye bags were as glaring as the blonde mess on Trump's head and his skin looked low key sick but still had some little tan to show he wasn't really near death for someone who is technically "dead", a concept humans weren't ready to grasp yet. A vampire can bleed, can feel and can break, just that it rarely ever happens, or actually never happens.
After his business in the bathroom, he still didn't feel like his needed to change his clothes which were just sweatpants and some ridiculous big shirt he got off a charity sale back when he was in North Dakota which reached his knees, but he knew he had to make an effort in his dressing, he could hear his sister's voice telling him not to fuck it up in his head. Whether it was telepathy or it was his active sub-conscious telling him how to deal, he didn't care, at this point the list he could do was fuck up his life.
He went through his phone, checking messages from his uncle which was probably the most talked to person on his phone after Isis. Uncle Hathor, his closest people he had to call friends Nolan and Kaliali were both of grid, they agreed to leaving the clan when they were all nineteen and hadn't contacted themselves in almost five years, he was kinda surprised that he wasn't hurt, and also kind of not surprised, they always talked about the different lifes that they wanted and continents they wanted to go to. Nolan loved western Asian especially Korea, obsessed with the whole K-pop culture and hence why no one took him serious and tagged his a lightie(a slang given to weak male vampire and generally female vampires), while Kaliali wanted to study Archeology in United kingdom, she was all into the idea that our Ancestors couldn't be too good at hiding every trace of our existence from the world, that even though we were Vampires, it still didn't knit us to the word perfection like the way humans thought they were, perfectly styled and never outside a planned path, but they were just like any and every creature that roamed this earth, looking for a purpose and self destructive.
Talking about purpose…